


You Had Me at Challah

by the_hodag



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: Canon-Typical Absurdity, Gen, M/M, Post-Canon, wedding shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-18 20:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18126038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_hodag/pseuds/the_hodag
Summary: Michael returned to Newport Beach after a year and a half to be the reluctant groomsman of a joint Jewish/Christian/Gay/Magician/Casino Wedding Spectacular. It was a lot to process.





	1. L'Chaimlich Maneuver

 

It wasn't the first time that Michael Bluth's somewhat peaceful sleep was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass and a slurry of expletives; but then his mother never woke up before 9am, so there was a little cause for concern. In the darkness, he peeled himself from the broken bed and rushed downstairs, pulling on a robe along the way and calling out to the intruder. “If you’re here to rob us, I can guarantee there is absolutely nothing here of any value.” 

A draft rushes through the glassless window of the front door, and Michael recognized the face of Tony Wonder trying to squeeze his entire self into a kitchen cabinet. “Uh. Hello?”

Having been caught in the act, Tony froze with his leg halfway inside. “I promise, this would have looked cooler if you had said – Wait, who are you?”

“We’ve actually met, already. I’m Michael?” He stepped gingerly over the broken glass that had fallen from the front door – more a fault of shoddy craftsmanship, and less a fault of Tony’s breaking and entering.

“Michael! Oh, I’m sorry. I get all you Bluths mixed up.” Michael tried to decipher the implications behind this terrifying sentence while the magician untangled his leg from the cabinet. He fell to the ground, taking the cabinet with him. Thankfully, it wasn’t loaded with anything more than empty shelves as it came crashing down. From the mess, Tony unceremoniously popped to his feet and offered Michael a hand. “Hi, I’m Tony.”

Michael didn’t accept the gesture of kindness, but instead traveled to the coffee machine in an attempt to start the long day he knew was ahead. “Yeah. I know. What are you doing here?” If Michael sounded bitchy, it was only because he had been woken up from the best dream he’d had in a while. But like all dreams, his memory of it disappeared into the night.

“Looking for you!” Tony acted as if he was proud of the obvious lie.

The beeps of the coffee maker were especially loud in the morning. Michael would’ve been more concerned had anyone else been asleep in the model home, but as it was, everyone was elsewhere - and the noise did nothing to stop his growing headache. “That would’ve been more believable if you had remembered who I was.”

In defeat and possibly out of regret, Tony tried to clean up the mess he made with the cabinet, but only made the noise worse with the scraping of wood against the ground. God, Michael really needed caffeine before he could deal with any of this. “Fine. You got me,” Tony admitted. “I was hiding from my family.” He successfully lifted the cabinet back into place, was proud of himself for doing it until it slid out and crashed to the ground again.

“Is this house on a slant?” Tony asked to no one in particular.

“Not that I don’t want you here…” Michael poured a few cupfuls of grounds into the machine and pressed start. “But why are you hiding from your family at six in the morning?”

“They’re very persistent,” Tony claimed. “All this wedding stuff is making them crazy.”

Michael perked up at the chance to connect with the new magician in his life. “I know all about that. My wedding day was a disaster. There were food shortages because of the seagulls and my wife – Her name was Tracey – she was actually set on fire. It was crazy. And all because my family didn’t—”

Tony interrupted him halfway through. “Oh, are we talking about you, now?”

“I guess not.” With a ding, the coffeemaker announced the end of its cycle. Michael poured two cups and offered the other one to Tony, as well as milk and sugar. Tony accepted all three, but opted to pour the milk down the sleeve of his silk shirt for reasons Michael couldn’t explain.

“I just don’t think they’re comfortable with the whole magician thing. They always claim they accept my career, but the minute I try to pull some rabbits out of a hat, it’s all ‘Tony, why are you fucking other men?’”

Michael was inclined to ignore that last comment to avoid a conversation he absolutely did not want to have, which is why he said: “I think they’re just saying that the magic thing is a little much, sometimes. Which I have to agree with. Do you _need_ it at your wedding?”

Tony chuckled, but there was a breath of annoyance caught in his throat. “Gob said you were a little homophobic.”

“I don’t see how that could be construed in anyway as – you know what? Nevermind.” Michael set his coffee mug on the counter after deciding that it was still too hot to drink. In an attempt to cool it down, he poured milk into it. The mug overflowed not too long after Michael stopped paying attention to it. Cursing himself, he pat at the mess the sleeve of his robe.

“Besides, this whole wedding thing is just a publicity event. I might as well get my act out there.”

Michael remembered the invitation he had received in the mail that advertised the wedding as a “Successful merger of the Bluth/Sitwell companies!” After reading the several magician puns that littered that page, Michael could hardly believe that Gob had found someone insane enough to devote their life to him. Yet it took only one meeting with the famous magician to know that not only did Gob manage to find someone else with a penchant for losing live doves in his clothes, but that Tony was indeed insane enough to willingly become a Bluth.

“Right, but a part of this wedding has to be out of love or you wouldn’t be so nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Tony said unconvincingly. “It’s all about good business, not love.”

“I don’t know, I _did_ get that video Gob accidentally forwarded to everyone in the family.” Gob was not a computer mastermind by any stretch, so Michael should have been more wary when he received an email with the tagline: “4 when ur lonley ;)”. Regrettably, he had seen too much of his brother (and Tony) by that point to block it out of his memory. Michael snatched the mug from the counter and took a scalding chug.  He adopted a serious tone. “Sure looked like a lot of love happening there.”

“There’s that homophobia again,” Tony remarked with a scoff.

Michael flashed back to the glitter filled screen. “Maybe a _little_.” Tony downed the rest of the coffee and subsequently made the mug disappear into a puff of smoke. It would have been more impressive, if the coffee mug hadn’t landed behind Michael with a deafening shatter. But as any up and coming Bluth would, Tony refused to acknowledge his failure. Michael temporarily indulged him only because it was the man’s wedding day. “Listen, I know how family can get. I promise you, if they’re anything like mine, they’ll…Actually, I don’t know what they’ll do because this is a new concept even for us.”

“If you ask me, most of my family are taking this whole Gay/Jewish/Christian/Magician/Casino Wedding thing a little too seriously.”

“Well, who wouldn’t?” And Michael braved the glass minefield to pull out a broom from the closet. He handed it to Tony and gestured to the mess around them. With a sigh, Tony started to sweep up.

“See, they’re under the delusion that this wedding is out of love and compassion. Which it’s obviously not.”

Tony never struck him as someone who apologized for his actions, but as Michael watched from behind his coffee mug while Tony cleaned up the mess with no complaints, it occurred to him that today would be all sorts of unconventional.

“Of course it isn’t,” was all he dared to say.

Later that morning, Michael arrived with suit in hand at the Casinova: a local hotspot for unconventional parties. Part Casino, part wedding venue, the building boasted over a hundred weddings between three clients, with another claim to fifty more. Incidentally, the Casinova harbored brand loyalty, which allowed them to kick start their part-time funeral service last year when one of their clients died shortly after his twenty-third wedding.

The procession would happen on the beach, with a reception on the nearby deck. Not for the first time, Michael had the thought that this would actually be a beautiful location if it weren’t for the swarm of doves that waddled around him. A group of people Michael assumed to be the staff were trying their hardest to herd the birds back into a cage, but their cries for help were drowned out by incessant cooing. In fact, Michael could barely hear his sister/aunt’s voice over the noise, but like the doves, he waddled on over to her.

“Can someone help get these doves out of here?!” The high strung voice of the wedding planner, whom Michael recognized as one of Gob’s Hot Cop friends, was echoed by Lindsay’s calls.

“The doves have got to go!” she yelled to nobody.

The wedding planner switched to arguing with a caterer, and warned against all the sins against Yahweh they were committing by mixing their salmon with their gravy. “It’s beef au jus, not beef for Jews!” he stressed. Plus, it just made for a weird palate.

Lindsay, on the other hand, thought she was being helpful by encouraging this merry mix-up. She told a different caterer how the salmon should be slathered in the stuff. Michael had to intervene not only for his own sanity, but for the sanity of the wedding planner who already had a lot of beef au jus salmon on his plate.

“What are you doing?” he asked reluctantly.

“I’m helping, Michael,” Lindsay replied. Just then, a dove landed on her bare shoulder but she shooed it away. Michael wondered in that moment how most of the doves didn’t fly away when the cage broke open. There’s no way they’d be _that_ well trained, is there?

“It sure seems like it. Do you know anything about hosting a wedding?”

“It can’t be much different than the HOOP benefits we used to throw back in Boston.” The crowd behind them cheered as the last dove made its way into the cage. 

Looking around him, Michael explained: “Actually, if you tried that here, I don’t think many of Tony’s family would go for it.” He watched out of horrific curiosity when he saw that the wedding planner was making amends with the caterer in a _very_ public way. It was a little disturbing, but he supposed the Hot Cops had no need for shame.

“I don’t see you stepping in as a part of your Best Man duties.”

“Actually, Buster’s the Best Man. If you were the actual wedding planner, you’d know that I’m just a groomsman today.” And when Gob told him this, Michael was a little hurt. If you asked him about that, however, he’d deny it profusely.

“Because you refuse to help out with the wedding! If it fails because of your negligence, just know that Gob won’t hesitate to blame you.” It seemed Lindsay got off on the wrong side of the bed that day. Michael chalked it up to stress. He could sense that Lindsay wanted this event to go well for her brother/nephew. In fact, he had been feeling the same way.

“And speaking of wedding failures, where’s Tobias?” Michael wondered.

The mustachioed man rolled by, uniformed in the same outfit as the wait staff with an addition of chartreuse roller-skates. “ _Hellooooooo_!” he sang, “Doth I hear my lady’s sweet voice?” Michael greeted him lackadaisically, but a slight smile crept on Lindsay’s face when Tobias kissed her on the cheek. Although, it disappeared when Tobias tried multiple times to steady himself on hers and Michael’s shoulders.

When he found his footing and readjusted his glasses, Tobias prattled on. “If I could just say how happy I am to be a part of this ceremony, even in a waiter role. It brings me great joy to know that today, this family will only– Lindsay?” She grabbed her husband by the shoulders and pushed him away. “Lindsay! Help!” Tobias protested while slowly rolling backwards.

“Why is he on rollerskates?” Michael asked. Tobias inadvertently crashed into the dove cage, consequentially freeing all the doves that had been captured minutes prior. Several already exhausted staff members let out shrieks of defeat.  

“At least he’s helping, Michael.” He chuckles quietly at the irony in that, noting the people who started clamoring to remedy the situation Lindsay was ignoring.  “Which is more than I can say about you.”

So that’s how Michael found himself adding two hours of dove-catching experience to his resume. But while Michael nearly broke both his wrists fighting the doves that writhed in his grip, he thought of worse ways he could be spending his Saturday. The employees were grateful, at least.

“Michael!” It’s easy to mistake the shrill cries of his mother for another bird, but he was sure that none of the doves he caught were soaked in vodka, so he turned towards the smell. Lucille bounded towards him, drink in hand and decked out in enough rosaries and crosses to outshine a Roman Catholic nun. “Michael! I need your help.”

“The family motto,” he remarked in a dry tone.

If Lucille heard him, she neglected to comment. “Your brother is trapped in the closet. I’ve tried everything to get him to come out, but he refuses.” By her tone, she sounded more annoyed than distraught.

“I don’t know what more you want from him, Mom - he _is_ marrying another man today.” He could see the disapproving looks his mother was getting from the wedding planner. And rightfully so, as Lucille’s drink sloshed onto the elegant purple carpets.

“I am talking about Buster! I think Gob hurt his feelings.”

It wouldn’t be the first time, Michael thought. “Okay, I’ll go talk to him, but I do have to ask… What’s with the getup?”

Lucille fingered the diamond cross around her neck. The reflection of sunlight nearly blinded Michael. “It’s a protest,” Lucille decided.  

“What exactly are you protesting?”

“The Jews,” she claimed like it wasn’t offensive. Michael could feel daggers being pointed in their direction and tried to laugh it off.

“You know you can’t let one bad experience with an accountant get in the way of your son’s wedding.”

Lucille inhaled the rest of her drink in one gulp. A remarkable woman, she was. “Oh please, we both know it’s a publicity stunt anyway. A homosexual wedding is good business for the company.”

“Everyone keeps saying that, but I don’t think that’s true.”

“Isn’t it?” Lucille pulled out a cigarette from her purse and handed Michael a lighter. He obliged, but made sure she knew he wasn’t happy about it with a frown. Somewhere over the ocean and the seagulls, Michael heard a protest from the wedding planner. “The Bluth Company received a sizeable donation from the Tastemakers not too long after we sent out the announcements about the merger. They helped to fund this ridiculous wedding.”

“So is the money the the only reason you’re here?”  Michael asked. Lucille made a noise that sounded like agreement. “Where’s Dad?”

Through a ring of smoke, Lucille answered: “I called him earlier. Apparently, he’s been stuck in traffic with that infernal Winnebago of his.”

Michael waved away the cloud that crept towards his face. “Let’s hope he can get here before the ceremony. I’ll go find Buster. In the meantime, you might want to take all those off,” he asserted, gesturing to his mother’s jewelry. “You can only wear them for so long before they burn you.”

After dropping off his suit with Gob, Michael embarked on the journey to find his lost brother. It took him several different storage closets (and one awkward interaction with two party guests who were in the middle of a makeout session) before he found the right one. He knocked twice before calling out. “Buster? Buddy? You in there?”

“Michael!” a voice inside responded. The inflection unmistakably belonged to his brother.

“What are you doing in there, pal? Why won’t you come out?”

“Oh, I tried! But I’m stuck!” So Michael turned the handle to the enter the room, something his mother apparently never tried, and found Buster in the corner with his hand buried between a mess of towels and cleaning supplies. “I thought this was a bathroom, but my hook got caught in the shelf when I tried to leave”

“You have a hook again?” Michael cantered towards his brother and started to untangle him from the wire. He was too busy with the hook to notice that Buster had separated himself from the appendage and was watching him intently. 

“Only because Gob told me the wedding was pirate themed.” That would explain why Buster was wearing a skull eyepatch and striped trousers with boots. But Michael had to give him points for commitment, as not many people would have pierced their ear for a one-time event. It was kind of touching in a bizarre Buster way that he went to all that trouble for his brother.

“Pretty sure he was lying about that,” Michael guessed before freeing Buster's hook from its entrapment. He held it out, and Buster patted him on the shoulder with his stub. Michael tried not to sound terrified of it while he slid the hook over the arm. “But if you take off that eyepatch and put on a jacket over that shirt, it’ll look less like a terrible romance cover.” And of course, Michael wanted to spare Buster the inevitable humiliation.

“Oh, I really messed up this whole Best Man thing, didn’t I?” Buster fretted as Michael led him out of the room. “First, I hire the wrong strippers for the Bachelor party, and then I got stuck on that shelf and then I got stuck on _this_ shelf and—”

Michael shushed him. “Hey, I wouldn’t worry too much about it, alright? I’m sure the strippers were great.”

The door shut behind them and the two found themselves lost in the growing congregation of guests and staff that swam through the hallway. “One of them was Gob’s ex and also a Hot Cop’s girlfriend, so there was a lot of tension the entire night.” Michael’s sorry he missed that, but Gob made it explicitly clear that he did not want Michael there for whatever reason. “You should have been the Best Man, Michael.”

“Well, Gob was adamant that it be you, so I’ll respect his wishes,” he insisted, trying his hardest not to sound bitter. “Do you want me to help you find the bathroom?”

“Oh, it’s okay – I don’t have to go anymore,” Buster told him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is shapin up to be the longest fic i've ever written with an estimate of 6000 words. (could be more. could be less.) i had to break it up into chapters make the narrative flow better, so i decided to post just the first section so people could read it while i'm still working on the rest. my plan is to finish this within the week (i'm on spring break rn) but i make no promises. major props to valenciaperez on tumblr for withstanding my bullshit.
> 
> i can't believe i wrote a fic for arrested development of all things. i can hear the guns being cocked in my direction.


	2. Matzo Fast!

After Michael cleaned up and successfully suited himself, taking extra care that his hair looked good, he decided to check on the guests that had arrived to the festivities. Many of the people that filed onto the beach were a part of Tony’s side and there were few Michael recognized from Gob’s. He did see more well-dressed Hot Cops, most of whom were happily chatting with some confused grandmothers, and pondered just how many strippers Gob had invited to the wedding.

But Michael did not see his father in the crowd, and started to worry. He pulled his cellphone from his pocket and tried to reach George Sr. His father picked up immediately, but his voice could barely be heard over the sound of explosions in the background.

“MICHAEL!” George Sr. was yelling at the top of his lungs.

“Hey, Dad. Where are you? The thing’s starting soon; you’re supposed to walk Gob down the aisle?” It was Jewish custom, Michael was told, for the mother and father both to accompany their groom down the aisle. Whether or not that was actually true, Michael was unsure, but even if it was something Gob made up to gain attention from their father, he wanted to do his best to ensure it happened.

“BELIEVE ME, I HAVE BEEN TRYING, BUT I THINK THEY’RE FILMING SOME SORT OF MICHAEL BAY MOVIE ON THE HIGHWAY AND THE ROADS—” An explosion cut part of his sentence off. Several strangers in the vicinity shot Michael uneasy glances at the sound. “—FOR HOURS!”

“Can’t you just turn around and find a different way?” he asked, unsure if his father could even hear him on his end.

The sound of another explosion caused Michael to wince and turn his head away from the phone. “I’M GRIDLOCKED, MICHAEL!”

“Alright. But you better get here soon or I don’t think Gob’s gonna be happy.” Before George Sr. can respond, an explosion ripped through Michael’s speaker, abruptly ending the call. “…Well, that’s concerning.”

Just then, Michael saw his own son through the sea of people, watching them with the biggest grin on his face. George Michael even engaged in conversation with some of the arriving guests, asking questions about who they are and how they’re related to the grooms. All-in-all, his son seemed genuinely excited to be there. George Michael greeted his father with a cheerful “Hey Dad!” and Michael smiled.

“Hey, George Michael. Have you seen your cousin?” She wasn’t technically his cousin, but Michael didn’t know that; he wanted to know if Maeby was enjoying herself as much as George Michael was. In a way, she was. When George Michael pointed her out, she was pestering some unsuspecting members of the Wonder family. Had Michael cared to inquire further, he would’ve learned that she was earning her inheritance by claiming it was a Christian tradition for money to be given to the bride’s niece.

“You know, Dad,” George Michael started, “I’m really happy to be here. I-I never thought Uncle Gob would ever get married.”

“You and me both, pal. But you remember he’s been married once already?”

“Twice actually,” George Michael corrected. Michael tried remembering who the other unlucky woman was, but his mind was coming up Ann. “I guess the second one didn’t…it didn’t stick, but this one’s actually like…This one’s real.”

Michael was thinking on his son’s words when a strange man came barreling towards them with euphoria in his eyes. “Uncle Michael!” Michael had no clue who this breathless man was, but the balding, dark-haired and wide eyed individual was falling over himself with excitement.

“Hi Steve,” George Michael offered and the man giggled. That was when Michael connected the dots and the terrible hairline to Steve Holt, his brother’s bastard son.

“Can you believe this? I grow up without a dad and now, I’m going to have two fathers. Two!” He raises his fists in triumph. “STEVE WONDER!”

“I think that name is taken already,” uttered George Michael as Steve bounced away to find his seat at the front. There was a pang of regret in the next words that George Michael babbled underneath his breath. “Why did I make him my plus one?”

“Tony really does not know what kind of family he’s marrying into,” Michael surmised. A quick glance at the crowd, and he saw that Lindsay and Tobias were arguing in the sidelines, Maeby was decorating herself in fine jewelry, and Lucille was blowing smoke rings into the wedding planner’s face. Typical family drama, as far as Michael was concerned. He made a mental note to applaud them for their restraint.

“That’s another thing, I know they’re saying this whole thing’s just for the publicity. But…I’ve noticed Uncle Gob is a lot happier now. It’s almost like - I don’t know - things are starting to make sense to him? And I’d go so far as to say that he and Tony actually have a loving relationship, but I…I guess I don’t really have much to go off of.” George Michael fiddled with the striped tie around his neck out of nervous habit. “A lot of people around here seem to think the marriage won’t last more than a month. I-I keep…hearing it. But you don’t believe that, do you?”

Michael considered it for a moment, but then he thought back on all the evidence that pointed to a relationship of genuine love and respect. “If anyone doubts it, I’ve unfortunately got the video evidence to prove it.”

“Oh, so you got that email too?” George Michael blurted, lost in the horror of his thoughts.

Not long after he spoke with his son, Michael traversed the sea of guests to the backstage area of the Casinova, where Gob was fussing over his appearance. The curtained room was lined with vanities and racks of feathery costumes that Michael hoped were part of a different show. More Hot Cops were there to attend to Gob’s needs, along with three other men Michael had never seen before but whom were decidedly Not Hot. The Best Man was nowhere to be found, but presumably lost or trapped in the clutches of his mother.

“Look who decided to finally show up to my very important day,” Gob growled halfheartedly.

“You’ve already seen me twice,” Michael pointed out. He had never seen Gob this jittery before. His brother was pacing back and forth, adjusting and readjusting the oddly shaped violet tie around his neck and constantly checking his hair in the mirror.

“Hon, leave it alone or you’re gonna end up looking like a recently sober Gary Busey,” a Hot Cop snapped.

“Just let me have this one, Dick!” Gob demanded, yanking off his tie and failing to unknot it. “You already ruined the bachelor party!” The man threw his hands up in defeat and disappeared out the door while complaining about how everyone always wants something _from_ ol’ Dick but no one wants ol’ Dick himself. The other men glanced around in confusion, but for the most part they tried to maintain a positive attitude.

“You’re especially nervous today,” Michael noticed.

It must have been the wrong thing to say, because it set Gob off. He crumpled up the tie and wheezed through his next sentences. “That’s ridiculous, Michael. You don’t know anything about me. Nervous! What on earth…would I have to be…nervous about?! This wedding isn’t—It isn’t real! It’s not…real. It is _not_ a _real_ wedding. Who-who-who’s saying _that_?”

In the middle of Gob’s ramblings, Michael turned to address the other men. “Is it possible I could speak to my brother alone? Otherwise, we might be here a while.” None of them protest and all of them leave the two brothers alone. 

“I’m not gay, Michael,” Gob insisted, having calmed down slightly once the audience disappeared. He was hopelessly shaking the tie in his fist. Michael seized it from him and pulled at the knot until it came loose.

“I don’t know if I fully believe you,” he commented and draped the undone tie around his own neck. A nearby vanity was occupied by a mess of combs and hairspray, both of which Michael handed to his brother in attempt to fix his disheveled hair. “Just like I don’t fully believe that this is a fake wedding.”

“Of course it’s fake. It’s just a publicity event. We even got donations from—”

“The Taste Makers; I heard—”

“Well, them too but I was mainly talking about the Jews with Dudes Foundation.” Gob started to laugh. “Let me tell you, those guys like a kiddushin.”

“Wow, so you know Hebrew?” It was a true testament of love, Michael inferred, that Gob bothered to learn non-English words for the sake of his husband-to-be. He was sure it was Hebrew, anyway. Being a goyim himself, Michael didn’t know how to judge. “So why even bother with all the Christian stuff?”

“I didn’t wanna wear those stupid hats,” Gob said in a prosaic way while leaning over the vanity to stare at himself in the mirror. “Plus, I would’ve lost a lot of my bible-banging, Jesus-blowing fanbase.” He seemed satisfied with the position of his hair and promptly started to spray it.

“Yeah, I think that ship sailed a long time ago,” Michael suspected.

The spraying stopped. “Hey, you didn’t tell Buster the wedding _wasn’t_ pirate themed, did you? I need his hook for my skin piercing illusion later.” Michael didn’t want to know what that meant.

“You could’ve just told him to bring it—the guy looks like he walked off from a production of _The Trial of Captain Hook_.” Gob shook the can in his hand vigorously and sprayed more hairspray than necessary, indirectly nailing Michael in the process. The chemicals had an odd fruity taste to them, Michael noted, and that led him to save himself from suffocation by grabbing Gob’s arm.

“Listen. If this whole wedding _is_ a sham, and there’s no love between either of you, then you definitely don’t need to worry.” The tie Gob was so lost in before was actually bow shaped, and Michael showed him how to properly put it on. “But if it _is_ real, even in the slightest, then I want you to know it’s okay be a little scared. And the family will still love you.” But Michael knew lying wouldn’t help him in the long run. “In their own way,” he added. This was the most sincere he had been with Gob in a long time.

And maybe Gob understood this, because the older brother began to confess. “I _am_ nervous…but I think I’m in too deep here, Michael.” Gob tugged a tuxedo jacket from a hanger and folded it over his arms. For once, he was thinking carefully about his next words. It was very out of character, and Michael briefly questioned if he was at the wrong wedding. “This whole thing started as a joke. We were just really going at it one night. I mean some real nasty stuff was happening; My hand was stuck in—”

“Ah!” Michael could not stress enough how desperately he did not want Gob to finish that sentence. “Ah! I don’t need to hear it!”

“Don’t be so homophobic, Mike,” Gob scoffed as he finally put on the jacket. The jacket was an incredibly sleek black with sequined lapels that, upon closer inspection, took on a floral design in many shades of purples and silvers. The style and cut was definitely flattering on Gob’s height. Michael stepped closer to inspect the fabric for lint, picking at balls of fuzz that had accumulated in the jacket’s travel.

“I already learned way more about your sex life than I ever needed to when you sent out that email.”

“What email?” Bless Gob and his computational idiocy, but he and Michael would have to have a long and incredibly uncomfortable conversation after the day was over.

“Nevermind.” He dismissed Gob with a pat on the shoulder. “You said it was a joke?”

“At first, yeah. But then we started sending out the fake merger announcements and that made it…real? Somehow? Do you know what that feels like?” Michael thought back on the moment he saw the invitations to his own wedding. He could still see the beautiful silver scrawl that was imprinted on those pristine white cards – an impeccable declaration of something he had always believed to be flawed until Tracey came along. The happy memory dissipated when Gob blathered on. “But that’s crazy. This whole thing is crazy. _You’re_ being crazy, Crazy. I’m not gay! You’re the gay one, Michael! I! I-I—”

Michael could see that Gob was on a mental warpath of self-destruction again, and tried to reign him in by waving around a violet pocket square. “Gob—”

His brother’s tone was serious again and he put a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “I have something to confess…I like fucking other men.”

Michael tried his hardest not to sound acerbic, but it slipped out regardless. “That’s great, Gob.” He folded the pocket square and placed it inside the breast of the jacket. “So, you really want to spend the rest of your life with this man?”

Gob probed what little brain he had to come up with an answer. “And what if I said yes?” It was the most genuine thing Michael had ever heard anyone in his family say. The fact that it was coming from Gob of all people did give Michael a little hope that maybe there was still some good in the Bluths after all.

“Then just go out there and marry him before he realizes he’s making a huge mistake.”

“Fine! I will!” Gob was on the defensive now. “But not because you told me to.” He glanced at himself in the mirror again to recenter his bowtie. The distraction coerced a final admission from him. “I should’ve made _you_ the best man.”

“Why didn’t you?” Michael wondered bitterly. “I mean, I-I don’t care either way, but I’m curious.”

“I asked Ice first, but he was too busy Best Man-ing a Muslim/Hindu/Hetero/Accountant/Zoo Divorce Party. Actually, that’s also why I had to find a different wedding planner.”

“Where does he find the time to do all that?” Michael knew it was a rhetorical question – who could ever understand the enigma that was Ice?

“Apparently, there was some real bad blood there today. The gorillas were not happy.” Gob failed to elaborate. “And I told Buster that he’d always be my assistant after the whole wall thing, so I had to keep my promise. I do that now. Keep promises. But you would’ve been my third choice.”

That was enough for Michael.

At five o’clock, it was time for the ceremony to begin. By that point, the guests had been corralled into their seats – with the exception of Barry, who was hiding in a brush. Michael suspected he wasn’t invited but had found his way into the Casinova regardless. A heavily adorned Maeby sat at the front with George Michael and Steve beside her. The row in which they sat had a few empty seats because their occupants were participating in the ceremony, but there was one thing in particular that bothered Michael.

It wouldn’t take long before he found Lindsay stepping over the toes of the wedding planner. “Where’s Dad?” he inquired.

“He’s still stuck on the highway. He kept saying something about a hungry caterpillar?”

The news annoyed Michael to no end. “Unbelievable. What about Oscar? Could he fill in?”

“None of us have heard from him,” the wedding planner interjected. None of them also knew that Oscar had gotten lost on the way to the wedding and found himself trapped at the zoo as the newest addition to the gorilla exhibit.

“So, Gob only has Mom to walk him down the aisle? That sounds like a nightmare for both of them - I’ll do it. I basically had to raise him anyway.” Before anyone could protest, Michael ran inside the casino to find Buster being reprimanded by Lucille for standing like a sissy. A few of the groomsmen as well as Gob cleared their throats to defuse the homophobia, but Lucille, who ignored Michael’s request to remove the excessive Christian jewelry, persisted in her subdued bigotry before Michael intervened. He gathered Gob and Lucille together to tell them the news.

“Change of plans. Dad’s running late; so he’s not gonna walk you down the aisle with Mom, I am,” he informed the two of them.

“Dad’s not even here?” Gob sounded hurt by that. It would be the third of Gob’s weddings that George Sr. would miss, and Michael believed it was also his father’s last shot to be supportive.

“Oh, who needs that old fruit anyway?” Lucille was incredibly unaware of the number of Hot Cops that were in the room, all of whom were poised to snap at any moment. “At least Michael won’t cry like a child on the way to the altar.”

Gob steeled himself and put on a cold expression. “Fine. But I don’t want you stepping over the chuppah bearers.”

“The what?” But there was no time for Gob to clarify, as music started to blast through the speakers of the casino. The wedding planner shooed a line of groomsmen carrying a canopy, and bridesmaids carrying flowers out the door, with Michael’s group following closely behind. Michael looked past their linked arms to his brother. Whatever gloom Gob had been feeling had washed away as soon as the music began.

_You’re as cold as ice. You’re willing to sacrifice our love. You never take advice. Someday, you’ll pay the price I know. I’ve seen it before._

“This song seems a little inappropriate for a wedding, doesn’t it?” Michael remarked.

“Shut up, Michael! Don’t ruin this for me,” Gob spat in a not-so-quiet whisper behind a wide smile. So Michael did, but not before seeing Lucille crack something resembling a smirk.

Out of the corner of his eye, Michael witnessed Tobias, still in his roller-skates, trip over a wire. The cage of doves that had been suspended over the entrance opened with a snap, and the birds inside took to the air. Well, most of them did, anyway; a few doves fell to the ground with a plop. The guests gaped in horror.

But Michael just grinned. Walking side by side with his mother and Gob on the carpeted sand, he dared to think that they were a family for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright so maybe this fic ended up being a little longer than i intended.


	3. Shalom My God

If you had told Michael a day ago that a beach casino was capable of making the list of the most gorgeous places Michael had ever seen, he would’ve laughed in your face. The wedding planner deserved a lot of props, because while the reception deck wasn’t much to look at in the day, by nighttime it was breathtaking. There was much to admire. From the way the soft glow of the fairy lights hit the sheer white fabric that hung from the ebony wooden structures, to the reflections that danced on the dark water, Michael reveled in it all – and he was never one to enjoy party decorations. It might have been the wine or the beef au jus talking, but it also could have been the way the laughter of the crowd echoed in the night.

When Michael told the wedding planner this as Tony’s family was droning on and on about how great their son was, Lindsay was hurt that she wasn’t included in the compliment.

“You look great, Lindsay,” Michael deflected. “A vision in blue.”

Lindsay pretended not to be flattered with a coy smile. The wedding planner was more straightforward, however “Don’t look at me, babe, you’re a little too Ellen for my kind. Michael, your hook-handed brother is too terrified to give the next speech.” Sure enough, Buster was cowering behind a brush on the beach, afraid to return to the water having embarrassed himself in a failed illusion. “Would you be willing to give one?”

That was how Michael found himself at the head table, begging for the attention of the guests. Gob murmured “Typical,” over the silence but was clearly elated to see his brother standing before the table to deliver a speech from the heart.

“I never thought of Gob as the marrying type, frankly. Nor did I ever think that…well that he’d marry a man, but I guess you have to pick your battles as far as family is concerned.” The joke didn’t land as well as Michael had hoped it would. “Actually…when it comes to family, you almost never get to choose. God knows, I’ve tried. But I think it’s important to acknowledge the ones who do, and are willing to put up with insanity for the ones they love.” _Like Tracey did_ , Michael recalled fondly.

He raised a champagne glass to the newly wedded couple. “Tony, I think you’ll find that we Bluths are an insane bunch, but I suppose you knew that when you chose to marry the most insane one of us all.” That garnered a laugh from the audience, whose memories of Gob’s skin piercing illusion were still fresh in their minds. Michael continued with a final line. “I promise, though, that we – sorry, _I_ will never turn you away. I would not…I wouldn’t sacrifice my brother’s newfound happiness for anything. To family!”

 “Of course, it’s all about _you_ , Michael!” Gob shouted over the applause but Michael knew it was with lighthearted intent. His brother was beaming from across the table as he took his husband’s hand into his own.

The general content that permeated the air doesn’t last long, however. A member of the Magician’s Alliance got a little too trigger happy with their flash paper and accidentally committed a hate crime on another guest’s yarmulke. “Oh God, not again,” Michael frets. The flaming man screamed and barreled through several tables, waiters, and a cameraman in order to dive into the ocean.

“At least it wasn’t me this time!” Gob mused with a laugh as several people called the ambulance.

Shortly after the paramedics wheeled the survivor away, George Sr. burst onto the scene, heavily out of breath and sweating profusely. “Michael! Oh, Michael, did I miss it?”

“You’re just in time for the first dance,” Michael helpfully informed him over his glass of champagne, “And there might still be some challah bread, if you’re quick enough.”

George Sr. sighed in relief and leaned over to catch himself. “You would not believe the day I’ve had. Once I was able to get off the road, I—”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m the one you need to apologize to. _Those_ people are standing over there.” He gestured to the magicians who were taking pictures near the water and making absolutely abhorrent faces that Michael wasn’t sure were serious or not. At one point, Gob nearly blinded the photographer with lighter fluid. Dedicated to her craft, however, the photographer continued to take photos even as she was photographing nothing but the open ocean. “I know it would mean a lot to Gob if you talked to him.”

George conceded. “Right. You’re right. See, this is how you’ve kept this family together for so long. You’re a good man, Michael.” And his father walked off to join the newlyweds with Michael observing from the distance. Gob introduced their father to his new husband, and Tony took him into a hug that George didn’t know what do with. It was made even more awkward when Gob joined in.

The voice of George Michael trailed over Michael’s shoulder. “So, was it like this with Mom?”

Michael led his son to the edge of the deck to lean against the railing. “Actually, it was pretty similar – even down to someone being set on fire. Only we didn’t make everyone extremely uncomfortable when we kissed.”

“Yeah, that went on for a while, didn’t it?”

In fact, it was a solid forty-one seconds before either of the men had come up for air. Michael had counted each one in between the alarming silence and awkward coughing. He had to hand it to Gob – the guy knew how to put on a show, at least; even if it was unbearable to watch. “Never let it be said that your uncle isn’t capable of love,” he settled on saying. “At least it was better than the skin illusion.”

Eventually the DJ announced the first song, and people flocked to the center to watch the freshly minted husbands dance to the music. The distinctive saxophone of George Michael (the singer, not the boy) blared through the speakers.

_I feel so unsure as I take your hand and lead you to the dance floor. As the music dies, something in your eyes calls to mind the silver screen, and all its sad goodbyes._

“They couldn’t find a different song?”

George Michael chuckled softly and grinned. “This is gonna be a good memory, I think. Whenever I look back on this family…” He trailed off, distracted by the gentle swaying of his uncles. “Everyone actually seems to like each other, for once,” he finally stated.

And when he saw that Lindsay and Tobias freely held hands while Maeby high fived a freshly bandaged Buster, Michael had to agree.

Soon after, Gob and Tony were being hoisted in the air as part of a Jewish tradition that seemed way more fun than anything the Christians ever did. The people around them clapped and danced while a few men held the grooms up with flimsy chairs. Michael could tell that Gob was a little frightened of the whole ordeal. Gob was a trooper, though; he didn’t complain once.  

Across the way, Lucille saw the opportunity to converse with her son and dived towards him with a speed well beyond her years. “Michael, there are so many blatant homosexuals here as well as Jews, you’d think we were at a Streisand meet and greet,” she declared when she yanked a martini from a waiter’s tray. Oh, maybe _that’s_ what she was actually going for.

Michael was feeling bold enough to badger her, though. “You know, you _can_ admit that you’re having a little fun. I wouldn’t judge you for it.” Not much anyway, but he left that part out.

Lucille frowned, the sound of her rings clinking against glass filling the silence between them. “I will never admit to anything.”

He pointed to the newest member of the family. “Even if I asked what you thought of Tony?”

Lucille was contemplative, likely looking for obvious flaws in Gob’s partner. “I think he could do better,” she asserted.  

“Which one are you talking about?” His mother did not answer and instead hid a smirk behind a sip of her vodka martini.

With pursed lips, Lucille began to speak. “You know, Michael, I wonder if –”

Disaster struck during the dance and Tony’s chair broke with a loud snap. The magician plummeted to the ground, yet his body disappeared into a puff of smoke. A flash occurred behind him, and Michael heard the voice of his brother-in-law call out: “DID SOMEBODY—” but he was interrupted by Lucille’s shriek. Tony wisely froze in surprise.

“Oh god, now we have two of them.” Lucille sneered, storming off when she realized that Tony had caused her to splash the rest of her drink.

“Sorry about that,” Tony apologized without meaning it. “People always forget about the ‘wonder’ thing.” The magician toyed with the diamond buttons on his jacket and prodded at his hair in an attempt to reinvigorate his sweaty and disordered swagger.

“She’ll probably forget it tomorrow,” Michael assured him. The horah had broken up when Tony disappeared, and Gob had been roped into an intense discussion with his son, Steve. Michael observed what he knew to be the first hug the two had ever shared, and reminisced about his own relationship with George Michael.

“Hey, listen,” Tony pulled Michael’s hand into a firm shake. “I want to thank you for helping us through this. I never wanted to do the whole ‘getting the family together thing’ because it’s so annoying. That’s why we went to the courthouse.”

That news stopped Michael in his tracks. “Hang on, you were already married?”

“Oh yeah. For three months now.” Tony said so ordinarily, like it wasn’t a big deal. “But we’d never turn down the chance to score some free capes from the MaGaycians.”

Michael was floored. “So, it really _was_ just a publicity stunt.”

“Big time! Both our companies’ stock prices have gone way up since the merger.” Tony could see that Michael was still disbelieving of everything he said. He slapped his brother-in-law on the arm in a gesture of good faith. “Don’t worry, we used the Yichud for some quality us time, if you catch my meaning.”

Michael didn’t.

When fireworks began to explode over the ocean, Gob called out to his husband from the adoring crowd and was waving him over. “The ball and chain beckons!” Tony laughed, “Come see our show sometime, Michael. You could be our plant in the audience.” When Tony departed to rejoin the celebration, he was practically skipping. After Tony caught up, the two shared a brief but passionate kiss before going on their merry way to gaze at the fireworks. In the staccato flashes of color, Michael noticed that the smile on Gob’s face was wider and brighter than it had ever been, and he felt good knowing that at least two people in his family would survive just fine without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mitch, you can call off your snipers, now.


End file.
